http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
The degree of homo-eroticism in much of Caravaggio's work and the fact that never married has led critics to speculate for years that he was probably gay, but ... who cares? At the end of the day, what has a person's sexuality to do with his or her character, skill or talent?
I have
been asked to repeat this poem (it last appeared on the blog in 2010) for ‘Seb
and Karl’ who ...’met in similar circumstances some years ago.’
They have
also asked if I would repeat the link to my poetry reading on the 4th
plinth in Trafalgar Square in July 2009; my contribution to sculptor Antony
Gormley’s One & Other ‘living sculpture’
project during which I read some of my gay-interest poems among others:
http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT ]
Karl and
Seb add that (unlike me and the cop in the poem) they have been partners for twenty
years to this very day. Congratulations to you both and a BIG HUG from yours
truly.
The degree of homo-eroticism in much of Caravaggio's work and the fact that never married has led critics to speculate for years that he was probably gay, but ... who cares? At the end of the day, what has a person's sexuality to do with his or her character, skill or talent?
COPS,
QUEERS, AND CARAVAGGIO
We met in an art gallery,
enjoyed each other’s company
all day;
at his flat, we chatted over
coffee and, finally, he asked me
to stay;
although both nervous,
we made love, the two of us
in heaven...
nor just having fun;
good to be close to someone
again;
his mouth, warm and sensual;
an embrace far more than sexual
wanting me…
as more than a friend
but no mere means to an end
physically
He brought me breakfast
in bed and I turned a shade red
at his uniform;
I hadn’t asked about
his career, content just to be
there
with him…
so it came as a shock
to see him dressed as a P.C.
for the beat;
tried to tell myself
it didn’t matter, heart all
a-flutter
and cold feet;
at the door, a shy goodbye,
copper’s shirt and tie a brick
wall…
that crumbled with an embrace
as we saw, face to face, nothing
mattered at all
Lovers till he moved away;
friends to this day
Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2010
[Note: This poem has been (very)
slightly revised since it appeared in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]
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